


tank me

by preslindsay



Category: spec ops - Fandom
Genre: BLM, F/M, Protests, Reader-Insert, Rich man - Freeform, Smut, SpecOps, idk - Freeform, lapslock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:40:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24780955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preslindsay/pseuds/preslindsay
Summary: basically you meet tank at a blm protest, and he's like the perfect man, and he asks you, the reader, out, and then stuff happens. i promise it's an okay read.
Relationships: Tank/Reader
Kudos: 9





	1. chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this isn't super realistic in terms of current events, i know, just enjoy the smut ;)

“no justice, no peace!” you shouted alongside thousands of other protesters: a crowd large enough to effectively stop all traffic in the city. the mass moved forward, marching past apartments, businesses, and various other buildings, some of whose windows were open, and had people hanging out, chanting with us, while others were blank-faced.   
it didn’t matter though, you were completely focused on the scene in front of you: the parade was heading straight into a huge cloud of gas: tear gas, you knew. a few stopped, understandably, but you and the rest marched on. the gas was weak by now, having been released at the front of the march (you were somewhere in the middle), but it still caused your eyes to well up. the switch between dry masks and ones soaked in water or vinegar was immediate. it was about two minutes of walking before it was obvious that the crowd had been stopped, and were gathering at the edge of what seemed to be a barricade put up by riot police, who were standing opposite said crowd, geared up and stone faced.   
the protesters threw chants and it back in the cops' faces, daring them to instigate violence. you held your sign higher and joined in.   
suddenly, a loud, dull thud sounded on your right and in milliseconds the police opened fire. even now, no one seems to be sure what it was that ignited the fight, just that it was instantaneous.   
screams rose above the crowd as protesters moved to hold their signs as shields, and those with proper gear moved forward to deflect and return tear gas canisters. you followed suit, surging forward with the more heavily armed cavalry (i.e. heat resistant gloves) and moved to stand in the line of predicted fire.   
it was then that a canister clanged to the ground at your feet, spilling its poison gas. you acted fast, picking it up and hurling it over the barrier separating the crowd from the officers.   
you had to do this with about 10 more canisters, and each time the heat threatened to pierce the safe barrier your gloves provided. by just the third throw, tears had completely covered your face, only getting worse with each one.   
it was because of this that you didn’t see the eleventh tear gas container. unable to block it, it hit your cheek, and fell to the ground. the burning sensation on your face also prevented you from moving the canister. something that must’ve been evident to onlookers because mere seconds later, a pair of gloves hands grabbed your arms and yanked you backwards. a tall, dark figure who must’ve been the owner of said hands crossed in front of you, picked up, and threw the canister with the strength and accuracy of a seasoned quarterback.   
your eyes still blurry, you couldn’t make out any details, but the figure, your savior, bent down and lifted you up; one arm behind your back, the other under your knees, and ran you both out of the crowd and the gas cloud, and sat you on the hood of what you were hoping was not some stranger’s car. one of those gloved hands pulled off your mask, allowing you to breathe freely, and laid you back, while the other held a water bottle over your tear ducts, and flushed out your eyes of the gas.   
blinking the liquid away, you were able to look up at your knight in... black armor, and saw not a face, but your own reflection in his helmet.   
you were a bit shocked: he seemed overdressed, even for a violent protest; but maybe he was just that prepared.   
“thank you” you managed, coughing out the words. you heard a light chuckle from behind the helmet, and you told yourself you could see him smiling. His hand was still supporting your back, and now that you had regained your bearings, it was easy to be hyper-aware of exactly how much space it took up on your spine. he held the bottle he had used on your eyes out to you, and you graciously accepted; you hadn’t realized how dry your throat was.   
you also couldn’t help but wonder if he had used this bottle himself already.  
it really was an accident when a drop of water missed your lips. you could feel it making its way over your chin, down your neck, and into your shirt. it was impossible with his mask to tell if he had noticed. he was looking at you, though, clearly concerned. that made you smile.  
if he was curious about the nature of your smile, he kept it to himself, opting instead to move your legs to hang off the hood of the car, so that you were sitting on your own. as soon as his hand moved from the small of your back, you missed it.  
handing him back the water, there was a small (or large) part of your brain hoping he was thirsty- you were curious about what he looked like- but you had no such luck. he did finally speak, though.  
“so, obviously this is a little sketchy: a random guy picking you up on the street”, you blinked, having not even considered that, “so,” he continued, “you can walk away and we can just act like this never happened, or, and this is my preference, i’ll be honest, we can protest together, so i can make sure you don’t have any more injuries, so i can keep you safe…”   
you had to raise your eyebrows questioningly at that, laughter in your eyes. he immediately understood what you were implying. “no, that’s not what i meant!” you burst out laughing, it was the first time you’d seen him flustered, “i know you can take care of yourself! it’s just you’ve already been hit, and i’d hate to find out anything had happened, and i’d worry, and-”, he was just rambling now. you had to smile up at him.   
even though it was a sketchy situation, your gut told you it was safe. and there was no way you were turning down the offer of this man. plus, you liked the sound of protection. “i’d love to protest with you. I have to ask, though, what’s your name?”  
he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly at that; “it’s tank.”  
“really?” you asked incredulously.  
“yeah, my parents were both in the military and thought it’s be really funny to name their kid ‘tank’.” you smiled. “they sound hilarious”  
“they are”, he responded. now you could hear his smile. “how about you, gorgeous?”  
the offhanded compliment made you blush, but you pretended to not notice, “y/n”, was your response with a wide smile.  
he guided you off the car and back towards the protesters, handing you your forgotten sign on the way. he was tentative at first, his hand light on your back, asking with his hesitance if it was okay to touch. you were grateful of his respectful attitude, and leaned into him to affirm that it was all right.  
the two of you walked together back into the protest, raising your fists at the officers, and chanting once more. it was a lot more fun with tank at your side, and you did feel safer- how could you not? he looked like a whole-ass military special operative. you hoped this wouldn't be the last you’d see of him.

-

you and tank had been protesting for hours since the incident, the sky was pitch black now. tank leaned down to inform you “it’s midnight”.   
the police had not stopped firing tear gas and bullets since they had hit you and there had been a few more to touch your skin, but none as serious as the first, thankfully. tank had pulled a black sweatshirt out of his backpack for you, and it did help to have another layer protecting your skin.   
it must’ve been another hour or two before the organizers of the protest called for the crowd to disperse. apparently silencers had been spotted on police rifles a few streets over. that could really only mean one thing: real ammunition. tank looked to you, his head tilting, seemingly asking if you wanted to leave. you nodded back.   
it was funny how easy it was for you to read him, even with the helmet.  
he clearly understood, as he held his arms out and started moving backwards. being so tall, the majority of the crowd could see him and followed his lead.   
the police refused to stand down despite our general surrender. he leaned down to your ear once more and said “y/n, we need to run, give me your hand.” you did so without question and he used them to lift you onto his back. he was so tall, you were essentially sitting on his backpack, arms now grasping his, unsurprisingly muscular, shoulders. “run!” tank shouted. another not-surprise: the mass of protesters were not about to question the dude in military gear, so they all turned and bolted; tank, you on his back, taking up the rear.   
you had to get a better grip, as running was not smooth, so you reached your hands across his chest, not walking to choke him by looping them around his neck.  
it must’ve been a mile before tank slowed. you were grateful for his stamina and selflessness then. you hadn’t realized just how exhausted you were until that moment.  
tank grabbed your forearms and brought you around to his front so you were face to face. he held you there just a moment too long before speaking, “do you want a ride?”   
it took you a moment to collect your thoughts enough to answer, distracted by your current position. “um, sure, yeah, thank you.” you had taken the t earlier in the day, but you really did not want to risk it this late at night. some would say that accepting a ride from tank would be just as, if not more risky, but you really did trust him.   
he lowered you to the ground, and you quickly hurried around what you assumed was his car- the one from earlier, to conceal the blush rising in your cheeks. you opened the door and sat down whilst trying to control your breathing when he got in, pulled his helmet down over a, very defined, jawline.   
“did you take your helmet off?” you had to ask.  
“yeah, it’s a bit hard to breathe in, especially after almost 11 hours.”  
you looked at him, your head cocked in confusion, “then why did you put it back on to be in your own car?”  
“what, and lose the mysterious aspect of my personality that you find oh-so-attractive” he asked, a lilt in his voice giving away that he was joking.  
you laughed back, letting your head fall back onto the headrest as he turned the car on and pulled out of his spot. you were still awake enough to realize he was driving a tesla, of all things. but with an eye roll at the sheer insanity of it all, you were asleep.


	2. chapter 2

when you awoke it was to the sun. in your eyes. you scrunched up your face in an attempt to block it out to no avail. instead you rolled over... and off of the bed.   
now fully awake, you took stock of your surroundings: on an unfamiliar floor, next to an unfamiliar bed, wrapped in an unfamiliar sheet. luckily, you were still in your clothes from the day before, minus your shoes. a quick scan of the room found them neatly placed on the floor at the foot of the bed. in fact, the whole room was quite neat.   
the source of the sunlight was a wall-to-wall window on one side of the bed, the other side had an open door leading to what looked to be an extremely nice bathroom, as well as a desk on which there were multiple folders overflowing with papers.   
the wall facing you had double doors, which were shut, flanked by pieces of abstract art that it was far too early to attempt to make sense of.   
a quick glance behind you confirmed the existence of a gigantic, grey, plush headboard, with light fixtures and glass doors on either side. all that you could see through the door closest to you was a hanger on which there was a very familiar bodysuit, and a table on which there was an equally familiar helmet. before you could confirm your suspicion, one of the two doors opposite the bed was slowly pushed open, stealing your attention.   
the door widened to reveal a man, in nothing but a towel, standing outside of the room. you watched his blank face turn to shock as the sight of a bed devoid of even sheets, but he quickly found them on the floor, wrapped around you. he laughed.   
“good morning.” if the suit and the laugh hadn’t tipped you off, his voice most certainly did.  
“tank?” you asked. this couldn’t be the man who had protested with you, chucking tear gas and dodging bullets in what was essentially military-grade equipment. the man standing in front of you was so sweet-looking. you scanned over him, trying to make it make sense. and it did, slowly.   
this man was definitely jacked, his biceps bulging even as he was simply readjusting his towel, hugging hips on which there was a sharp v-line punctuating abs you’d only ever seen on statues. the navy towel made his tan skin look tanner. his dark hair was floppy and fell over his forehead, his equally dark eyes were crinkled at the corners because of his wide smile that stretched over his entire face.   
despite the laughter, tank was ever the gentleman, and quickly rounded the bed to make sure you were all right. he offered you his hand, and you took it, allowing him to help you up. he made quick work of throwing the sheets onto the bed, and you helped him remake it.   
when you had confirmed it was, indeed, the same tank from last night, you had assumed you were in his apartment. you asked, and he confirmed, saying “yeah, this is my place, i hope that’s all right, it’s just when we got in the car, you fell asleep, and it seemed wrong to wake you to ask where we were going, so i took you here, is that okay? i slept in the guest room, don’t worry! i’m sorry, i hope it’s okay that you’re here. i can take you home, of course! do you want breakfast?”  
now it was your turn to laugh. even though you had glimpsed this worrying, caring side of tank yesterday, it was still such a sharp contrast from his projected persona.   
“tank,” you responded, placing your hand on his arm in an attempt to quell his concerns, “of course it’s all right, thank you so much. i slept very well, and i appreciate everything you’ve done for me. i’d love to take you up on breakfast but i feel gross in these clothes, and just need a shower.”   
“well, i just finished up in the bathroom. you’re welcome to it.” tank responded kindly.   
“oh,” you smiled at his generosity, “i meant a shower at my house. so i can change.”  
“oh” he echoed. “well sure, lets go.”  
“okay, thank you”, you grabbed your shoes and found your phone with them.   
he took you through his ‘apartment’, it was more like a mansion, and the two of you got into the elevator to the garage.   
you looked over at him, “seriously, tank, thank you.”  
he just smiled back and nodded, it was enough to know he understood.  
when you reached the garage, he led you to his car, and you got into the passenger seat once again. it was a short ride to your place, you both discovered, only about a mile. it was crazy to think the two of you had been so close this whole time.   
before you got out, you took a chance: “hey, i really would love to have breakfast with you, or lunch, or dinner. is there any chance i could give you my number so we can meet up sometime?”  
you weren’t sure, but he almost looked relieved; like he’d been holding his breath and just released it. “yeah, of course!”   
he handed you his phone and you were both smiling as you put your number in.  
“thanks again!” you said, handing the phone back, and climbing out of the car. “see you soon!” and you shut the door and went into your building.  
in the elevator you couldn’t stop thinking about tank. for one, he was a completely respectful man: he protected you, awake and asleep, and never tried anything, always checking to ensure your comfort. for another, you didn’t think you’d mind one bit if he did want to try something. bottom line, you were anxious with anticipation for his text. 

-

tank’s text never came. his call did, though, about 20 minutes after you got home.   
“hello?” you picked up for the unfamiliar number.  
“hey, baby” tank replied, only half joking.  
“hi” you laughed, “what’s up?”  
“well, i was wondering if you’d be interested in dinner tonight? somewhere out of the city.”  
“yeah, i really would” you were sure he could hear your excitement through the phone.  
“perfect. i’ll pick you up at 7.”  
“oh, wait, what should i wear”, you asked before he hung up.  
“whatever you want.”  
“tank!” you complained, “should i dress nice or no?”  
“i’m sure you will look absolutely lovely no matter what you wear” came his snarky reply.  
“oh my god”, you giggled, not really annoyed, “i’ll see you then.” you quickly hung up, before he could call you ‘baby’ again. it made your heart flutter but you weren’t sure if he was joking or not. as much as you hoped he wasn’t, you figured the best move was to assume that your relationship was solely platonic.  
that being said, knowing tank, or rather, knowing tank’s standard of living, it would be a nicer restaurant. best to wear a dress, you decided.

-

though it took the majority of the morning, you finally settled on a deep blue, knee-length bodycon dress. it was simple, and you hoped it made you look elegant.   
wanting confirmation, you snapped a pic in the mirror and sent it to your best friend. they responded immediately with the works: affirmation in all caps, as well as heart-eye, star-eye, and drooling emojis. they also asked about the occasion. you called them: “any chance you’re free for lunch? there’s a lot to catch up on.”   
they agreed and you met at your favorite local restaurant, where you remained for hours recounting the previous night and answering all of their questions. unsurprisingly they were not about you so much as tank, tank’s body, and tank’s house. when you realized that you only had about two hours to get ready, and said so, your friend begged to come over to help you get ready (and meet tank. though they didn’t say it aloud, you know them too well). you feigned inconvenience but ultimately agreed, of course.   
they were able to hype up your dress in person and aid in hair and makeup, which did take about two hours, so it was while they were brushing their hair -”first impressions matter!”- that there was a buzz at your door. your friend literally jumped up from their seat at your vanity and ran to you, shoving your entire person back into the bedroom, “no, wait here, i’ll get the door, you’ll make an entrance, no, come on, it’ll be great”, you simply had no other choice, so you stood in your room, peeking through the crack in the door, and making sure they didn’t scare him away.  
“come on up.” they said into the intercom at the door, before turning around and grinning in your direction. far too soon there was a knock on the door of your apartment. your friend turned to face the door, making a show of flattening out their hair and shirt, before opening it.   
“hello, sir” they said to tank. you had to chuckle, they were ever the character.  
“well, hello there,” you were happy to hear him playing along, “i’ve come to pick up y/n for dinner.”  
“of course, and you must be tank.” he nodded.  
“lovely to meet you! your date will be out shortly, she is just finishing up. you know how long women take to get ready” your friend joked, nudging the tall man with their elbow, making him chuckle. you snorted at that, walking out of your room, making your entrance, “real nice, real nice.” you shot tank a smile, one he returned, obviously entertained.  
“anyway” your friend continued, “have her home by midnight, and no funny business, alright? anything you do to her, i’ll do to you.”   
“jesus!” you exclaimed, turning to clarify to tank, “they’re kidding, obviously, they don’t even live here.” you shot your friend a look, and they nodded at tank to confirm what you were saying.   
“bye now!” they waved at you both. you left, and they closed the door behind you. it had been decided earlier that they’d stay that night at your place in case of an emergency, but with any luck, you wouldn’t be back until the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's about to get good :)


	3. chapter 3

you were right. tank’s version of ‘out of the city’ apparently just meant ‘above’. you must’ve been on the hundredth floor of some skyscraper, in a large room that had no walls- only windows. it was obviously a very fancy restaurant.  
when you had gotten into his car at your apartment, you noticed he was in a suit, and were immediately relieved for your outfit choice. he also had an opinion on it, being quick to compliment you on how the color looked and how gorgeous you were.  
in the car, you had rested your hand on the console, or whatever it’s called in a tesla, and he had taken it, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb, his fingers laced in yours.   
he hadn’t let go either, leading you into the building, then the elevator, and soon to your table. it was easy to forget that you were supposed to be approaching this relationship as friends. he continued to subtly romance you for the entire evening: ordering “the finest bottle of champagne you serve”, you had laughed at that; and feeding you some of his meal from his fork, “oh, this is so good, you have to try it!” you grinned at that, and of course, did.   
what was so great about tank was even with every move he was making he always hesitated and you could see in his eyes that he was asking ‘this; is this okay?’ you were always so quick to smile back, ‘yes’.  
when you had both finished your meals, and the waiter inquired about dessert, tank looked at you, “would like to have dessert at my place?” you nodded quickly, and he answered the waiter, giving him his card to pay.  
“hey! let me at least pay half, it’s the least i can do!” you interjected.  
tank nodded at the waiter, letting him walk away with only tank’s card, “i will do no such thing! a lady never pays on the first date.”   
you blushed, “but i want to repay you for everything.”  
“great! come to my house for dessert.” he winked at you, and grabbed your hand, leading you once more, this time out of the restaurant. you passed your waiter and he passed tank his card. the latter did not stop until the two of you were alone in the elevator, foreheads pressed together: “can i kiss you?” he asked.  
you looked into his eyes, full of anticipation, and had barely time to breathe a “yes”, before his lips descended onto yours,   
time had stopped, the world had ended, the human race had been wiped out. it was only you and tank, at the center of the universe. his hands snaked behind you, one on the small of your back, and one creeping lower. you feared that if he ever stopped touching you, you’d implode. your hands reached up into the fluffy hair you hadn’t realized you’d been desperate to touch, and took hold, pressing him closer to you, if that was possible.  
evidently, it was, as he slipped a leg between yours, causing you to moan, and allowing his tongue entrance into your mouth. it met yours and you couldn’t help but moan again. your lips closed around the intruder and you sucked, hinting at what you wanted to do to him… other parts of him. he clearly got the message because he groaned into your mouth and moved both his hands to your ass, squeezing.  
before it could go any farther, the elevator sounded you arrival, and you reluctantly detached yourself from tank, trying to fix your appearance in the reflection on the doors as much as you could before they opened. you looked over at tank, he hadn’t made an effort on that front, his hair now messy and his face flushed.   
he grabbed your hand once more and led you to the car, not giving you time to worry about the stares you were positive the two of you were getting from the other, impeccably-dressed patrons.  
once you were comfortably seated, you quickly pulled out your phone to send a quick text to your friend, it was as good as confirmed: you wouldn’t be home tonight. you were having trouble remembering how to spell: tank’s large hand covering your upper thigh, gently squeezing. you sent the message anyway, hoping to god that they’d understand what you meant.  
tank was breathing heavily, and his refusal to look at you gave away his desire. you couldn’t make light of it, as you were feeling the exact same way.   
it was right on time that you pulled into his garage, neither of you would have lasted another minute.   
tank practically jumped out of the driver’s seat, meeting you on the passenger’s side, and pressing you into the car for a quick, but passionate kiss, pulling away once again far too soon for your liking.  
it was almost routine now, him grabbing your hand to lead you, both breathing heavily, to the elevator. as soon as it started to rise, he pulled your chest to his, letting his hands explore your body whilst his lips began sucking marks into your neck.   
you tilted your head to give him more access, glancing up at the floor count of the elevator, willing it to speed up. his fingers reached the hem of your dress, teasing the back of your thighs, and brushing up under the skirt.  
you had your hands clasped around his neck, pressing his lips closer to you.   
his left hand abandoned its position on your back and moved to your other thigh, where he grasped at your skin and lifted you up.   
your legs automatically wrapped around his waist, and you could feel his length hardening against you. at this new angle, your head was above his, and you took control of the kiss, your tongue exploring his mouth while your hands were threading themselves though his hair.   
now that your dress was hiked up to your waist, allowing your legs to encircle him, tank took full advantage, moving his hands over your bare ass, and snapping the edge of your panties against your skin.  
when the elevator dinged this time, he did not move to put you down, nor did he even try to detach your mouth from his. instead, he blindly walked you both to his bedroom, where you had slept last night.   
tank threw you onto the bed, and stood above you, his lips swollen, button-up hanging from his shoulders, and pants low on his waist, panting.   
you were sure you didn’t look much neater. your dress was still resting at your hips, completely exposing the lingerie you had put on in a spur-of-the-moment decision that afternoon.   
tank took his time, letting his eyes rove your body. it was suspenseful to the point where you sat up on your knees and pulled him in by his collar, pressing your lips to his.  
“please” you breathed into his mouth.  
“are you sure?” he asked. you pulled back slightly to look into his eyes, where his concern was evident. “i’ve wanted you since i saw you, i don’t know how well i’ll be able to restrain myself if we do this.”  
his words sent your blood racing to your core: “good.” you said, “don’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SMUT WARNING for the next chapter !


End file.
